


the future in her eyes

by Lackyducks



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Essi Daven Deserves Better, Essi Daven Is Alive AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, Plans For The Future, Post-Break Up, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Reunions, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lackyducks/pseuds/Lackyducks
Summary: Jaskier goes to the coast and finds something he didn't expect, but that he needed all the same.Maybe destiny can be kind after all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Essi Daven (mentioned), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Essi Daven
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	the future in her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i'll admit i've not seen the entire tv show (only the bits with jaskier in and a lot of crack videos). i've instead read the first two books. and i fell in love with essi and she's only in one chapter and she deserves better. it's free real estate.
> 
> i personally hc essi as about ten years younger than jaskier. is it canon compliant? who knows!
> 
> i apologise for the out of characterness but i'm trying to write tv jaskier having mostly read book dandelion & writing tv him interacting with a book only character. it's a Headache.

Maybe Jaskier is a hopeless romantic. It wouldn't be the worst thing he's been called. He personally prefers it over ' _whore_ ' or ' _womaniser'_ , but his opinion has never meant much in those situations.

As he descends from the mountain - woefully alone - nursing a wounded pride and a broken heart it is better he doesn't admit to, he decides to go to the coast. He is not as young as he once was. Morbid as it is, he admits his limits. Maybe this is the sign he needs, the one that tells him he should finally settle down. He's not fooling himself that he'll live forever. Though, he would've preferred the sign didn't come from someone he somehow considered a ' _friend'_ telling him, finally, he's worse than dead weight.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if there was fairness in Geralt's words. So he thinks about it less. He can close this chapter of his life with a neat bow that he'll knot as many times as possible. Life is too short to mourn what he can't change.

He doesn't travel as far as he perhaps should. As competent as he is - and he _is_ , despite popular opinion - traveling alone is never a wise idea. He joins a band of bards through Malleore, parting from them in Creyden. Then he continues south, dropping in and out of civilisation until he reaches the coast.

It's early afternoon as he walks the slope to the beach. Though with the layer of cloud and fog, you'd be challenged to tell. He's found himself a small coastal town, with a busy pier further down the shore and the swinging glow of a lighthouse. There's enough inns and taverns that he doesn't worry about finding a room or a stage. Instead, he walks onto the beach, worn boots sinking into the sand. With slow steps, he heads towards the waves, avoiding the shells and stones around his feet.

"Dandelion!" A familiar voice carries over the horizon. Spinning in place, a warmth grows in his chest despite the cold air. Standing atop the stone stairs is a lone figure, cut out from the grey mist. It has been a long time, and yet he recognises her in an instant.

"Poppet!" He calls, a grin breaking onto his face. She skips down the stairs, golden hair flowing around her like a siren. Then she's running across the beach, across the sand as if she weighs nothing, and straight into Jaskier's arms. He accepts her greedily. For the briefest of moments, her familiar scent cuts through the sea salt.

"I remember telling you not to call me that," She steps back, but her hands remain on his arms. She's matured since Jaskier last saw her. It's hard to imagine the child he once knew. Her features are sharp, pointed like an elf's. But her eye remains the same deep blue, and her dark gold curl still shadows the other from view.

"Well, I'd call you Little Eye, but you're hardly little anymore." She laughs, and a bird sings its distant call in harmony. She pushes him back, her feet sinking into the sand.

"You sound like my parents," She tells him, "I could be the most famous bard on the continent, but no. I'll always be their little girl."

"You could be," Jaskier replies, "But not while I'm still performing, I'm afraid." She laughs again, shaking her head. Her hands fall to her hips, looking him up and down.

"I'd say it's good to see you, but that depends on whether you're here to steal my business or not." Her reply comes as naturally as the breeze, her voice teasing. That familiar dark blue meets his, "So, what does bring you here? I don't believe there are any events happening, or royalty planning visits. Unless you've heard something I haven't?" It's Jaskier's turn to shake his head, and not for the same joyous reasons.

"If I'd known you were here, I would've come sooner." He means it truthfully. It has been far too long since he's seen Essi. He knows she's done well for herself. He'll hear her ballads sung in taverns, hear of her performances and mesmerising lyrics. She's every bit of his competition she was determined to be.

"Sweet, but doesn't answer the question." She breaks off into a smile. "No, Dandelion, I am glad our paths have crossed again. It has been too long. Others of our guild never come close to capturing your prose. Seeing them perform your songs is like trying to read a book in Dwarven."

"I was planning to stay awhile, truthfully. Take some time to decide what I want to do next." He still doesn't know what that would be. "But now I see you're here, I'll ask what your plans are."

"I've been here for a few seasons," She replies, "Looking for inspiration after a broken heart. And I've always found the ocean inspiring." She looks past him, to the rolling waves. Blue breaks into white, before dissolving into the sand. The tide is coming in. "I have a cottage further up the sea front. Join me."

Jaskier nods, with only a passing glance to the force of nature behind him. He'd much prefer to follow the one in front.

* * *

The cottage is a quaint thing. The white walls would blend into the background if not for the greenery spread across the front. A vine, half dead in the winter, creeps over the doorway. Shrubbery marks the boundary between her cottage and the street. It's quiet here. Jaskier isn't used to this kind of peace.

The cottage itself has only three rooms. They settle in the living space, Essi taking up the kitchen along the wall. Her cooking has improved since they last met, for it doesn't take her long to have soup stewing above the fire. It's during this time their conversation draws to the inevitable. One white-haired arse of a Witcher.

"I like to believe I wasn't some passing fancy of his," Essi tells him, "But that ship has long sailed. I've had lovers since but-" She gestures to her empty cottage, "-None have lasted."

"You were at disadvantage, it turns out," Jaskier replies, strumming his lute and failing to ignore how it stings his cold-numbed fingers. "Him and... A sorcereress. Through an assortment of events that barely seem connectable, she saved my life, and Geralt tied their fates together." He drops his hand down, giving up on the lute. "Destiny, it would seem, is as much of a bitch as it has ever been, as they promptly broke up after finding out. Then Geralt promptly broke his ties with me." Essi raises an eyebrow, pouring the steaming soup into two bowls.

"Whatever does that have to do with you?" She asks as she walks to the table, placing a bowl in front of each seat.

"I doubt I could explain it all." Jaskier takes his lute off, leaning it against the wall. "But the crux is, he'd finally had enough of me. Losing his lover was the final straw. Blamed me for everything bad that's ever happened to him."

"That doesn't sound fair," She says. Jaskier hums agreeably.

"I tried saying that, but he seemed fairly set on it." Jaskier spins around table edge, dropping into the seat across from her. "I quote ' _If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands_ '." She winces, in the squinting of her eye and the tightening of her shoulders. Leaning forward, she places her hand over Jaskier's.

"That is..." She swallows, fingertips pressing into his skin. Her hand is so much warmer than his. "Needlessly cruel." Jaskier sighs, using his other hand to prop up his head.

"Yes, well, you travel with a man for a not insignificant amount of your adult life, and this is what it gets you." Jaskier shuts his eyes, taking another breath. "Tossed out like the shit I apparently shovel." His fingers tap absently against his cheek, mimicking the gentle movement of her's.

"I am going to write the most insulting ballad about him," She decides, sitting up straighter. The upset on her face has been replaced by a grim line of determination. "He will never be able to enter a tavern again." Jaskier smiles, but shakes his head.

"I've spent most of my life trying to _improve_ his reputation," He reminds her. "And most of my music is based on our adventures together. It wouldn't end well for me." She sighs.

"He shouldn't have treated you like that." She flips his hand over and squeezes it tightly. "I'm no longer the child who fell in love with him, Julian. You don't need to be either." Jaskier gives her a sad smile, watching as she tucks the curl behind her ear. Both of her eyes are trained on him, as stormy as the ocean. Her hand is still warm from the fire.

"I wish I could." Jaskier laughs and he can't help the bitterness that slips into it. "Oh, I wish I could." He squeezes her hands in return. "Or maybe I'll spend the rest of my human life getting over him."

"That's a bit dramatic, old man," She replies with a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure you'll find someone else. Something new. There is so much life out there in the world. I've stopped pining over him, and you should start that journey as well. You can stay as long as you'd like." Jaskier makes a quiet noise, allowing the words to sink in. He finally releases her hand, both of them moving to the soup. It's nice. Flavoursome. She's learned so much.

"I think that's enough of that tonight," He says. Her look suggests she doesn't agree with it, but she drops the conversation nonetheless.

"Why don't you tell me about your latest ballads?" She suggests as a peace offering. "I've been dying to hear them." Jaskier nods, abandoning the table to reach his bag, pulling out the cared-for journal within it. He places it between their bowls of soup.

"This one, I've been stuck on this particular line-" Essi's eyes flick across the pages as she reads, "-Do I go for gorgeous garroter? Lovely garroter? I'm not sure." He sings the lines for her, and she hums.

"Have you considered not having a word there? Not describing the garroter at all?" She still wears the pearl necklace.

* * *

They only have one bed, and Jaskier refuses to put her out of it. He has his bedroll, so he makes a home by the fire. Essi supplies him with a blanket far thicker than his own, that wraps around his shoulders with the weight of a man. He is surprised how well he sleeps that night, with the brisk sea air, the crashing waves and crackling fire. There is something rejuvenating about being by the coast. He wakes up early and makes them both breakfast.

It's as easy as that.

They live together with the same ease Jaskier once travelled with Geralt. Essi wakes early, sings to the sailors before they head out for the day. Sometimes she'll join them, helping aboard the ships. Jaskier occasionally walks her to the coast, but he knows better then attempting the open waves. They'll cook together at lunch, singing, sharing ideas and stories, catching up from years spent apart. The house is rarely quiet and filled parchment covers the empty surfaces.

In the evenings, they head to the taverns. Together or apart, Essi has become a staple of this town, so Jaskier does too. He forgot the ease of dancing around a tavern. He forgot even more how much fun it with Little Eye. They have taverns full, singing along, until Jaskier no longer considers the residents strangers.

And Essi buys another bed, and Jaskier returns to it every night. Flirting is only a performance now. He doesn't need to fill the void Geralt's left with sex. Everything he needs is right here, in the person he'd consider family, even if not related by blood. Until-

"I've been thinking," Essi says. They're outside, lying in the grass of Essi's garden. A variety of flowers are beginning to blossom, their colours faded in the night.

"A dangerous game," Jaskier teases. She shoves his shoulder where they touch, side by side. Her eyes remain on the stars above them.

"Shut up, Mr. Oxenfurt." Jaskier laughs.

"You've got me there. Continue." She giggles, tilting her head so it rests against his shoulder.

"I think I want to go out again. Travel," She says, and the stars twinkle in her eyes. "I love it here, don't be mistaken. But I never want to be complacent in life. There's too much to see and say and do."

"There's a war out there, Poppet," Jaskier reminds her, his voice low. "There is danger in the world. Are you sure you want to leave this?"

"We live such short lives to spend them doing nothing," She replies. "I'm not requesting you come. I'll happily continue paying for the cottage. But you said, you came here to decide what to do next. I've been here for near a year now, Jaskier. I think I've finally decided what I want to do next."

"And you're not scared?"

"I'll always be scared," She admits. "But letting that stop me seems childish. I've survived out there on my own. I'll thrive out there again. I'm visit my parents and I'll skirt the fighting. I'll collect stories of people's lives and sing them in the hope we are remembered past our lifetimes." She turns to Jaskier, then. There is something magical in her eyes. "Is that not a goal in life? To be remembered once I'm gone?"

"Poppet," Jaskier says, as he cups his cheek. "I think you're a fool to assume I wouldn't come with you."

* * *

They share a drink the night before they leave, belongings packed away or sold. Their loose pages are binded into books and two horses with their names on are waiting at the stables. Jaskier wishes they could've gone out by boat. Explored somewhere new. Somewhere without white-haired men with piercing amber eyes. He regrets being so seasick.

Jaskier has never said goodbye to so many people when leaving somewhere. Not even Oxenfurt. He will miss this place. A community that welcomed them so easily. With free drinks filled to the brim and a table with their names on it. Maybe this is the life he'll live without a Witcher in it.

"To the future," Jaskier says. Essi smiles. Her eye holds all the enthusiasm and excitement that Jaskier lost somewhere along the way. He sees himself reflected in her, and it is a wonderful thing.

"To the future," She agrees. "And to not meeting past lovers."

Their glasses clink with the satisfaction of a new adventure ahead of them, and Jaskier's low chuckle. Candle light reflects off the silver embedded around Essi's neck as she swigs down a mouthful.

When they leave the next morning it is sunrise, and Jaskier looks forward to what comes next.

**Author's Note:**

> what comes next is them inevitably meeting geralt and essi ripping him a new one. maybe in fluent elder.
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
